


Hermes By Way Of Aphrodite

by fictionalthirst



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:06:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27373174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalthirst/pseuds/fictionalthirst
Summary: Gladio spends a boring evening at a club recommended by Noctis, and finds that he may have to rethink his opinion about a certain blond he thought he knew pretty well.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69





	Hermes By Way Of Aphrodite

**Author's Note:**

> This fic owes a great debt to a certain piece of fan art that I cannot link, nor do I want the artist to know about (due to embarrassment, not thievery). XD Just know that the idea was not my own, I merely expanded upon it.

Gladio stands at the bar, wondering why in the hell he’s wasting his precious free time with this pathetic excuse for a club as the venue. Trying to hook up with the lackluster offerings milling about has been unsuccessful and disappointing, to say the least. Half of them are underage, and the other half that _aren’t_ are vacuous and desperate.

He’d chosen _Oracle_ on Noct’s suggestion, though now he wonders if the bias toward the club is all in the name. The Prince had sworn up and down that he and Prompto have been regulars there ever since they were seventeen and couldn’t get into real clubs yet. According to Noct, it’s a decent place to drink and dance, even though Gladio only ever participates in one of those two things.

He’s considering leaving after he finishes his beer, but a sudden flash of blond hair in the crowd grabs his attention and he is suddenly not as interested in hurrying his departure.

All Gladio can see is the back of her. She’s got an asymmetrical pixie cut, styled in a tousle to one side, the wavy sweep of her hair dipping toward her shoulder in soft waves. She’s wearing a navy blue button-up shirt as a dress, belted high at her waist, the neck flirtatiously open around her shoulders. Gladio wants to see it from the front. Gartered stockings and tall boots complete her outfit, supple brown leather hugging her legs up to the knee. It’s a simple look, especially for a night out at a club, but it’s really working for her.

The sway of her hips to the beat of the music is like a siren’s call, and Gladio finds himself putting down his beer, unbuttoning his shirt a bit and shedding his suit jacket onto the back of the barstool.

He winds his way through the crowd, picking up a simple rhythm of movement to blend into the dancers. When he finally reaches her, he presses the backs of his knuckles against the valley between her shoulders as a signal of his presence behind her.

She turns just enough toward him to size him up, and Gladio’s world is turned upside down.

Even under the rather expertly applied makeup, he recognizes the face, the flirtatious expression melting into pure shock with wide purple-blue eyes and an open jaw.

“Prom?” Gladio blinks down, both of them frozen against the shifting crowd. “What-?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Prompto gapes, backing into some dancers before shuffling forward again, closer to Gladio, suffocatingly surrounded by the throng of club-goers.

“Noct suggested this place,” Gladio says, eyes taking in all of the changes the blond had made to his appearance with interest. 

Prompto isn’t what some would call a “man’s man.” He’s thin and, well, if Gladio was forced to admit it, pretty. For a guy. He’s usually rather plainly dressed in graphic tees and relaxed denim. Gladio never would have imagined that Prompto would get up to putting on makeup and women’s clothes to go out to a club. The thought never would have crossed his mind before now.

But now that it has, it’s oddly appropriate. Prompto’s face is slender and soft, and his body type actually looks _good_ in the shirt-dress he’s got on. And damn, are those what his legs have looked like under his jeans this whole time?

It’s hard to try to imagine that gawky kid that lays around eating potato chips and cursing at video games is this gorgeous creature. But there’s no denying they’re one in the same.

“Shit,” Prompto bites his lip, flushing. And oh, that is a sight Gladio could get into. “I knew this was a bad idea. Damn it.”

“It’s just a coincidence,” Gladio says, shrugging. He considers putting a hand on Prompto’s waist, like he would if this was a woman he had an interest in. And that’s what he has to consider now: even if Prompto wasn’t dressed like this, would Gladio still be interested?

It’s not that he hasn’t noted Prompto’s attractiveness before, but it was always in an abstract. Like, “That new friend of Noctis is pretty good looking.” An observation. Not really a consuming thought.

But now that Gladio is really looking, he can imagine under the makeup the freckled cheeks and wide violet eyes, and it’s not _not_ intriguing.

So his hand falls to Prompto’s hip, and pulls him up against Gladio’s body as the larger man resumes the sway he had approached him with.

Prompto blinks up at him, not quite as far as he usually needs to, in the heels he’s wearing, and Gladio’s not sure how he’s ignored the enticing gaze up until now.

“C’mon, we’re in the middle of the floor, here,” Gladio smirks down. “We should keep dancing.”

“You’re gonna tell Noct, aren’t you?” Prompto glares up at him, daring the taller man to make this into a joke.

“Do I look like a gossip to you?” Gladio chuckles. “I’m not going to tell him anything. If he asks, I went out for the night and I danced with this really hot blonde. He doesn’t need to know the rest.”

Prompto quiets, most likely not sure what to do with being called “hot”, and begins to move on his own, rather than being pulled into movement by Gladio.

“I just - I like to feel pretty sometimes,” Prompto offers, turning in Gladio’s hands to press his back up against the larger man. Perhaps it’s a deflection, a chance to blend in while not facing Gladio’s gaze, but it’s also quite enticing, the swell of the blond’s backside pressed against his upper thigh.

“You’re pretty most of the time,” Gladio shrugs, letting both of his hands fall to Prompto’s waist, bunching the material of the blond’s dress under his fingers as he holds the hips in sway with his own. “Except maybe when you and Noct are on a marathon gaming kick and you haven’t showered in two days. Eh, even then you’re towing the line of strangely cute.”

“You’re really not weirded out by this,” Prompto says, leaning back against Gladio’s chest.

“Only weirded out that I haven’t given this any thought before tonight,” He confesses, close to Prompto’s ear.

“Are you for real?” Prompto asks, turning back to face his friend, his small palms pressed to Gladio’s pecs, either in a bid to not get too close, or to simply feel them. He notices that Prompto even went as far as to paint his nails to match his maroon mouth.

“That depends,” Gladio says, brushing a hair out of Prompto’s face and trailing his thumb across a freckled cheek, past his jaw and down his neck. The shiver that forces Prompto to close his eyes slips through Gladio, too. “How do _you_ feel about it? Any interest on your part?”

“Um, yes,” Prompto breathes. “Unlike you, I’ve been thinking non-stop about how pretty _you_ are.”

“Oh, really?” Gladio grins. “That’s flattering.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Prompto smiles, sheepishly. “You walk around half-dressed most of the time. I’m not blind.”

“Good to know the system works,” Gladio says, pulling Prompto closer. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Seriously?” Prompto balks.

“We don’t have to if you’re not into it-”

“No, no-” Prompto replies, his hands curled around the width of Gladio’s ribs. “I’m definitely into it.”

“Great,” Gladio breathes into his ear, nibbling at it. “I’m desperate to see what those garters are attached to.”

Prompto makes an inarticulate sound, and allows himself to be pulled across the club to retrieve Gladio’s jacket. They’re lucky enough that when they get out of the place, there’s a taxi emptying right out in front.

“Sixteenth and Citrine,” Gladio tells the driver, guiding Prompto inside the cab. As they take off, Gladio notices how quiet Prompto has become, possibly worried that his voice might give away his gender to the driver.

Gladio looks him over once again, now that they’re under the passing streetlights. Prompto really had gone all-out, and the result was stunning. The soft eyeshadow and dark lipstick; the waves in his usual hairstyle giving it a different shape altogether; the smooth expanse of his legs wrapped in thigh-high stockings. If he put in as much effort into dressing himself in his everyday life, he’d be an utter knock-out that Gladio would not have overlooked, regardless of gender performance.

The shirt dress is cut high on the thigh, and that stretch of skin is tempting. Too tempting, it turns out, because Gladio finds himself running a finger along the exposed flesh, startling Prompto enough to make Gladio smile.

Prompto doesn’t shrug off the touch, either, just sits and squirms a little and _gods_ does that spur him on. He slips the finger up and under the garter holding the tights up, and tugs on it, snapping it against Prompto’s thigh. The blond bites his lip, refusing to look Gladio in the face, and the impulse to push Prompto into making a sound is overwhelming.

Gladio slips his hand under the garter and smoothes it toward Prompto’s inner thigh, the softest, warmest part of his leg, and caresses _up_ , closer and closer to the juncture of his legs.

Gladio’s pinky brushes against a lacy undergarment, and he has to bite back the groan that leaps from his throat.

Prompto’s hand stops him from going any further, and the pronounced strain at the front of his skirt speaks to his enjoyment.

Thankfully, they’re rounding the corner and pulling to the side of the road at Gladio’s building. Now forced to remove his hand from Prompto’s leg, he fumbles to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket, and grabs a few bills to hand to the driver. 

They climb out, hastily, and Prompto is lucky that a whipping wind blows through, so that the hand holding down the front of his skirt looks like he’s protecting his modesty. Which is true, in a different way.

The doorman buzzes them in and they hop into the elevator that will take them straight to Gladio’s apartment on the top floor. It’s a long journey from ground level, and Gladio takes the opportunity to push Prompto up against the wall of the elevator with his hips.

“I gotta hand it to you,” Gladio says, rubbing his beard against Prompto’s neck. “You’re really blowing my mind tonight, and we haven’t even gotten to my place yet.”

“Uh, same,” Prompto laughs, breathily. “I never imagined you of all people to be _cool_ with this kind of thing. You’re _so_ …”

“Fucking turned _on_ , is what I am,” Gladio says, diverting the topic back to the matter at hand. He pushes a hand under the skirt and feels for the texture of his panties, stretched around Prompto’s impressively hard member. “I’m going to rip this dress off of you.”

“You’d better not, it’s my only one,” Prompto laughs, the delightful sound breaking on a moan as Gladio cups him with a broad hand. “Gods, how long is this elevator ride?”

As if on cue, the room shifts to a stop and the door dings as it opens into Gladio’s apartment. They stumble out of the box and onto the hardwood floors, Prompto’s boots clacking against the surface as he’s pulled across the floor and into the living room, where Gladio tosses him down onto the luxurious sofa.

Kneeling between Prompto’s legs, he finds the zippers on the boots and guides them down, pulling them from each stockinged leg.

From this vantage point, Gladio gets a glimpse of the undergarment holding Prompto’s cock prisoner, as his aroused length pushes up the fabric of his dress; it is a black pair of panties that is mostly see-through, other than the delicate pattern of flowers and vines woven together. The garment narrows just behind his balls, nestled in the cleft of his backside.

Gladio moans, and Prompto sweeps a hand through brown hair, staring down at him with parted lips and a flush spreading over his cheeks, just under his lust-hazed eyes.

Pushing his face up and under the skirt, Gladio mouths at Prompto’s manhood, the texture of the panties rough against his lips. Impatient, he pulls the fabric aside, releasing Prompto’s hardness with a cry of relief from above him, and he explores the organ with his tongue and lips, enthusiasm gripping his every motion.

“Gladio,” Prompto begs from above, the skirt blocking their view of each other. “Let me touch you, too. Please.”

With a trail of bites to the soft skin of Prompto’s inner thighs, Gladio reemerges from under the dress and pushes his chest against the blond’s belly, wrapping his arms around the slight form. Prompto follows suit, around Gladio’s shoulders, and the larger man desperately wants a kiss from the maroon-colored mouth just out of his reach.

When Prompto suddenly pushes him backwards to sit against his calves, the blond claims his mouth so sweetly and achingly that Gladio feels like he needs to hang on and let Prompto have his way. The impulse lasts for an embarrassingly short time, Gladio’s willpower not what he once believed it to be. They’re rough and demanding with each other, and when Prompto finally pulls back with blown-out pupils in his heavily lidded eyes, Gladio glances down at his mouth, now smeared with the dark color. He groans, knowing that half of it is now plastered to his own face.

Prompto seems to have had enough, because his small hands furiously work open Gladio’s shirt, pushing both it and the jacket onto the floor.

“Gods,” Prompto sighs. “I mean, I see this a lot, but I’ll never get over how absolutely _cut_ you are. Fuck, you’re hot.”

“You’re not so bad, yourself, Blondie,” Gladio says, a soft laugh on his breath. “Look what you’re doing to me.” Gladio grabs Prompto’s hand and guides it to the excruciatingly hard length of him pressed up against his dress pants.

“I wanna suck you off, so _bad_ ,” Prompto confesses, already pulling Gladio’s belt from his waist.

Gladio imagines the stain of Prompto’s lips around his girth and his cock leaks against his underwear. Prompto hums with approval at the wet spot, but wastes no time pulling the boxers down over Gladio’s hips.

“Get up on the sofa,” Prompto says, dragging the underpants completely down Gladio’s legs as he maneuvers himself into place where Prompto was laying only moments ago. “Gods. Damn. I knew you were gonna be huge, but this is so much more than I imagined.” He gives a few experimental tugs to the shaft, smoothing his thumb over the underside as he examines Gladio’s dick, and it all melts pleasantly in the larger man’s pelvis.

“You got lube somewhere nearby?” Prompto asks, teasing down Gladio’s foreskin. “Because I’m not leaving here without riding this thing.”

“Astrals, Prom,” Gladio breathes. “Yeah, in the drawer of the coffee table.” He points directly behind Prompto, who is looking rather disheveled, now that Gladio’s not quite so focused on what’s under his skirt. His nicely styled hair is a little messy, now, after being pressed against the couch cushions, not to mention the smear of his lipstick.

Prompto grabs the bottle, and a condom, and sets them on top of the table for easy access. Returning his attention to Gladio’s manhood, he grips the length with one hand, the nailpolish drawing even more attention to the action than it might with a bare hand. Tucking the length of his asymmetrical bob behind his ear, Prompto presses a soft kiss to the leaking tip of Gladio’s cock, looking up at him from under his darkened eyelashes.

Gladio hangs onto the couch for dear life.

With a fluttering of his eyelids, Prompto slips the tightened ‘o’ of his mouth over the bulb of Gladio’s cock, the warmth spreading over him like molten honey. Gladio has to shut his eyes to regain his composure as Prompto’s wet tongue explores the edge of his glans, teasing over his frenum and lapping at the looseness of his foreskin. With effort, Prompto takes more of the shaft into his mouth, but he isn’t even able to get half of length inside before he settles on pleasing what he can with his eager orifice.

Gladio isn’t disappointed, especially with how expertly the blond’s hands are milking pleasure from the exposed remainder of his manhood. Gladio has to force himself to breathe slowly as Prompto wrings ecstasy from him, and all at once the sight of his dark lips sliding over him and his delicate hands manipulating the rest becomes too much to bear.

“Hey, hey,” Gladio warns, somehow releasing his grip on the sofa to encourage Prompto’s mouth off of him. “I’m close. But I wanna come inside you.”

“Mmm,” Prompto nods, wiping his mouth. Gladio catches a glimpse of the ring of lipstick around his girth and has to clamp his jaw shut. “Yeah, I want that, too, Big Guy.”

The blond climbs up and onto Gladio’s waiting lap, and it’s so _fucking_ arousing that they’re both hidden under his skirt, now, warm and aching for their coupling. Prompto rips open the condom, reaches under his clothes, and without looking rolls it over Gladio’s length. Once he’s satisfied that the protection is secure, he repositions himself so that he is on his knees, waiting above the straining organ.

Gladio takes this as his cue to ease his lubed fingers inside, and feels for the cleft of Prompto’s backside. The strap of the garter grazes his palm and Gladio groans, remembering the snap of it in the taxi. He pulls at the narrow strip of Prompto’s underwear, easing it out of the way before pressing the pads of his fingertips against the puckered flesh.

Prompto is much looser than Gladio expected, and it makes him wonder just how much the blond has gotten laid before this. He’d never thought of Prompto as someone who would go out and find sex. This entire night has been one hell of a wake-up call for Gladio.

It takes almost no time for Prompto to mewl around three thick fingers, and Gladio relishes in the tremor of his limbs as he grazes Prompto’s sweet spot over and over.

“I’m gonna come too fast if you keep that up,” Prompto gasps, thrusting back against the intrusion despite his warning.

“If you want me to stop, I guess I will,” Gladio grins up at him, easing his fingers out.

“Ah!” Prompto cries, pressing his cloth-hidden cock against Gladio’s bare stomach. “I just want you to bury yourself inside me already. I’m fucking dripping.”

“Gods,” Gladio breathes, letting Prompto line his ass up to the head of Gladio’s cock.

“Take me, Gladio,” Prompto begs, his voice breathy and needy.

Gladio guides Prompto down and onto him, the give of his opening smooth, but tight after a couple of inches. He eases the blond off him to the tip before pushing inside again, a little more give to the thrust and how half of his cock able to fit.

“Fffffuck,” Prompto breathes. “Come on, I can take it. Drive it home, Gladio.”

He wishes he could shove a hand against Prompto’s color-streaked lips, but all of his effort is in the press and drag of the blond’s hips as he struggles to ease himself inside the unforgiving flesh.

Finally, with one last push, Prompto’s ass is flush to Gladio’s hips and thighs, and they’re both breathing heavily as they adjust to the union. Gladio grunts as Prompto begins to roll his hips, steady and rhythmic. He lets the blond work, slipping both his hands up and under the dress to feel the soft skin, teasing at the garters and following them up to the band that they’re attached to around Prompto’s belly.

Imagining the garments, without being able to see them, sets off fireworks in Gladio’s brain and belly, and he’s achingly close to completion. Still, he’s curious about what’s underneath the top of the dress. With fumbling hands, working against the constant movement of Prompto’s body, he unbuttons the front with difficulty, finding more black lace underneath as he opens the garment wide and discovers a matching bralette wrapped around his chest, his nipples peaked under the floral design. Gladio teases at the pink buds, biting his lip as Prompto gasps and writhes under the attention.

Desperate to watch the blond fall completely apart, Gladio moves one hand from Prompto’s hips, down to the juncture of his legs where his cock is straining for touch, the lacy panties still dragged to the side for access. The tip of him is slick with precome, and he smoothes the wetness around the sensitive bulb, earning a moan and a stuttered thrust from his companion.

“I’m gonna come,” Prompto cries, his movements faltering.

“Fuck, me too, Prom,” Gladio says, wrapping one arm around the smaller man to give him better leverage to guide their rhythm as he strokes Prompto’s cock. “Come on, baby, come for me.”

With a sharp jerk of his hips and a high cry, Prompto’s climax rips through him, his spend coating Gladio’s hand up to the wrist. Right on the heels of his orgasm, Gladio groans as he empties in pulses into the tight heat of the blond.

Gladio buries his face in the slight cleft of Prompto’s lace-covered chest, pulling him into a rough embrace as he lays them both back against the couch, clawing for breath and slumping with exhaustion, still entangled.

After a moment of recovery, Prompto sits up again and presses his messy lips to Gladio’s, a deep, grateful kiss searing through them both.

“I really hope you’re going to want to do that again sometime,” Prompto breathes, sitting fully upright in Gladio’s lap, still stuffed full with cock and his dress soaked through with his own orgasm. “Because I’ve _never_ had it that good.”

“No playing coy with you, huh?” Gladio laughs, smiling affectionately as he cups Prompto’s face with his clean hand. “I think we have a standing date, for sure.”

“Excellent,” Prompto kisses him once more, sweetly, before easing himself off of Gladio and getting to his feet. “Now. You’re gonna let me borrow something to wear, right? I can’t walk home in this.”

“You wanna leave?” Gladio raises an eyebrow. “I was thinking we could go a couple more times while I wash your clothes and I’ll take you home in the morning.”

“Oh thank fuck,” Prompto breathes, undoing the belt around his waist so that he can remove the rest of it. “I wanted to stay but I didn’t want to be clingy.”

“Cling away,” Gladio says, fondly, as he watches Prompto undress. His cock gives a feeble twitch, and he hisses with discomfort. “Not to sound like a creep, but we should go out and get you more of this stuff, just for some variety.”

Prompto laughs, dragging the garter band and stockings down. “Planning for the future, huh? Romantic.”

“What can I say,” Gladio laughs, sleepily. “I’m not about to let a good thing get away.”

“Damn, if I had known it was so easy to reel you in, I’d’ve let you catch me in a dress a long time ago,” Prompto laughs, hands on his bare hips.

“Let’s not waste time on ‘if onlys’,” Gladio pushes himself up and off the sofa, standing blissfully at his full height advantage over Prompto. Damn, he _definitely_ should have realized the allure in _that_ before now. “We’ve got a shower and a bed calling our names.”

“After you,” Prompto smiles, and Gladio bends to gather up the garments, throwing them in the washer on their way to the master suite.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, my brain was made of fireworks while in the middle of writing a _different_ fic, and I had to get this all out before I lost it. I'm blaming the title on my Hades (game) obsession, and the fact that Hermes -> Mercury -> "Quicksilver" -> Prompto. *shrug*
> 
> Catch me on twitter @fictionalthirst.


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